Heroes
by Homicide-Inside
Summary: Short stories of the Torchwood Three Team as inspiration hits. Rated T so far. "Though nothing will keep us together, we could steal time just for one day. We can be Heroes, for ever and ever. What do you say?"
1. Hazardous Games

**Hazardous Games**

**Summary: **Jack absolutely loved to play games, especially when he dragged his team into playing with him.

**Author's Notes:** Isn't it coincidental that the proverb I used as an introduction was spot on? Cool.

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All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

-_Famous Proverb_

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Sometimes, Captain Jack Harkness liked to resign from the heavy work forced upon his shoulders and engage in recreational activities, as he would always like to dub it. It always happened during Slow Days, or the days nothing unusual—or, what do you call something that comes up usually that happens to be unusual to humanity, really?—takes place that would have the Torchwood team running around endangering their lives and, as an added bonus Jack would say, losing weight. Sometimes, the team would be more than glad to participate in Jack's games, but only if it really was a Slow Day wherein they would be swiveling in their computer chairs or flicking Number Two pencils in boredom. But if it happened to be a Jack's Bored and Wants to Bug the Team Again Day wherein everyone would be busy in their own stations and Jack, having to work on reports piled on his desk and wanting to get a little rest, would try to entertain himself by annoying them with his random games, it irritated them to say the least.

It didn't exactly help, either, that Jack's games were quite simple yet bore great consequences. It didn't require running around, except maybe his and Ianto's Naked Hide-and-Seek, but that was always done in private and at night when they had no difficulty or possible intrusions to halt them, and Jack didn't really consider that as a game. To the captain, a game should always be played by more than two people, because it would certainly be kinky if it was otherwise.

The games varied according to what Day it was. He reserved the standard group games such as Spin the Bottle, Strip Poker and Never Have I Ever for Slow Days for everyone's participation and concentration which was essential. Then, for Jack's Bored and Wants to Bug the Team Again Day, he reserved those games that didn't need them to retire from whatever work they had to do, but their participation wasn't exactly optional. Whether they liked it or not, if Jack had started, they were immediately joined in. And that was what annoyed them the most, so they always had their eyes and ears open in case those games started, because losing was the worst thing that could happen to you.

It also always happened at random. Take for example this one game Jack favored. The team, investigating on a new species of alien that they had killed off last night, would suddenly hear Jack bellowing from his office, "One!" and they would know that Jack's Strip Counting Off has been commenced. They couldn't get away from it, either, because their paychecks were always, _always_ hanging on the line just because Jack had that much privilege and authority. So, one of them would have to yell out a "Two!" without having someone else say it _with_ you. If it just so happens that two, three, four, or even all of them had said the next number in unison, they would have to take off something they had on their bodies down and start from the very beginning. Only Jack and Owen found this game fun, but what did the team expect from those two horny bastards? The game eventually ends when a team member had gotten down to only one piece—two for the girls—of clothing left on his or her body, and he or she would have to suffer a dare.

There were more games like that with an added twist, all originating from the dark innovative depths of Jack Harkness' mind.

Ianto had always been one to be careful of those Days. Those Days when Jack's Bored and Wants to Bug the Team Again. He always had the least work to do in the hub, not to mention it was always his arse getting harassed by the captain's perverted hands, therefore making him the likely target for the games. Whenever he brings up Jack's coffee, he would check for signs of tediousness and if the paperwork was light enough to handle. But his tactics only occasionally worked for Jack had seen through them most of the time. It amused the immortal man, even, that the Welshman was growing more paranoid by the second. But what concerned him, then, was his evident lack of sleep. Was he really causing that much trouble to his Archivist, or was it something else?

"It's the sex," Owen had told him when consulted, "in those Jack's Horny and Needs Some Teaboy Loving Nights. And lately, that's becoming frequent. You're gonna kill him, mate."

So, Jack was guilty, but he had thought of a brilliant plan right then and there.

And one fateful morning, as Tosh was researching on an odd-looking alien device, as Owen was inspecting Gwen's nonlethal-but-still-needed-attending-to wound on her thigh, and as Jack listened to Tosh's recent discovering of the technology, Ianto emerged with the files from the Archives Jack had asked him to fetch, handing them to the captain. Jack brushed his fingers against Ianto's hand intentionally and had Ianto distracted by the affectionate touch and carelessly locking eyes with him. Jack smirked and, before Ianto knew it, winked at him. No, it wasn't a wink that had an underlying sexual intent, nor was it of acknowledgement for finding the files so quickly, nor was it of approval to anything. It was, Ianto feared, the beginning of another of Jack's evil games. And it _had_ to be Ianto's least favored.

Ianto frowned at Jack's smirk and, with his trademark rolling of eyes, fell to the floor as a dead man would.

Tosh screamed in a jolt, but as the team watched Jack retreat to his office whistling, unperturbed by Ianto's sudden collapse, they had realized that they had started playing _Murderer_.

"Bastard," Ianto gritted through his teeth.

"Shush," said Jack. "Dead men don't talk."

"Damn," Owen said in the autopsy bay, "and I was going to shout for my coffee. You have the worst sense of timing, Harkness." He jogged up and stared at Ianto's paralyzed body on the floor. "Although, it gives me an opportunity to say this: Hey, Teaboy, quit lying around and do some real work, why don't 'cha!" And he laughed, earning a dark look from Ianto.

"He ain't staying that way for long, Owen!" Gwen yelled from the autopsy bay. "_You'll_ be the murdered one when the game's over, and I can't promise you it'll be a wink from him."

Still, the medic sniggered.

Tosh got up from her chair and sighed. "Owen, give me a hand."

"What for?"

"Ianto's foot is blocking my chair." Tosh pointed at the body part invading her personal space. "I need help to move him."

Owen eyed the body carefully. "The bum might bite me."

"He can't bite you," Jack said from his office, "or else he'll have to treat everyone drinks—" Ianto was ready to pounce on the medic. "—and dance to _Ring of Fire _in a hula skirt." Ianto groaned inwardly. "It's all about sportsmanship, kids."

Owen tilted his head and grinned. "Yeah, sportsmanship, mate." He neared the paralyzed Welshman and pinched his cheeks to test his patience. Ianto's eyebrows dipped further down in disapproval and irritation. Owen looked up at Tosh. "All right, you grab his arms, I'll do his legs."

Tosh went around and scooped up both of Ianto's arms but was too weak to move him. "Gwen, help?"

"Hold on." Gwen staggered out the table and tried not to mind the pangs from her thigh. She approached the three and took hold of Iantos' other arm, slinging it over her shoulder. Tosh mimicked her and, by Owen's count of three, lifted him up and careened over to the sofa. Ianto almost smiled as he watched everyone struggle with him and giving him such a kingly, albeit uncomfortable, mode of transportation by carrying him around. He frowned, however, at Owen's joke about his weight. He was ready to shred that man to pieces with his bare hands. Or he could always pour sewage water in his coffee. He'll have to try that next time as payback.

When the trio had managed to get him to lie on the couch, they heaved sighs, stretched their arms and backs, then went back to their work. Jack strolled out of his office to check on Gwen, seemingly flirting with her and telling her how good it was that the weird device they were studying only scathed her a bit. Ianto rolled his eyes and tried hard not to move to spare himself the humiliation of him dancing such a sexual song in only a grass skirt, and possibly a lei. He'll never hear the end of it, for sure.

He stared at the ceiling, instead, and started to plan the perfect execution of Owen Harper.

But then he felt a hand on his shoulder and, in an instant, he saw Jack towering over him smiling. "Now don't start masterminding real murder, Ianto." Ianto glared at him. Jack leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, "I only '_murdered_' you because I felt guilty for making you stay up so late every night. So take the whole day and sleep, please, you need it." And he kissed him on the cheek before going back to his office.

Sometimes, everyone hated Jack's games during Jack's Bored and Wants to Bug the Team Again Days because nothing good ever came out from them. Someone was always bound to lose, and he or she always paid the price. But Ianto, then and there, had realized that Jack didn't always play his games for laughs. He played them so his team would loosen up and relax themselves. Working in Torchwood proved to be a pain in the arse—in everywhere for that matter—but it also had its benefits. Now, Ianto never really properly categorized his captain to know if he stood as the pain or the benefit, and he probably never will.

That Captain Jack Harkness was really quite an odd character.

Ianto tilted his head a bit and watched Jack scribbling on papers before smiling and dozing off completely.

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**Further Author's Notes: **Inspired by the games my friends and I play, and by my older sister's stories about their Extreme Murderer. (What Jack played earlier on.)


	2. Should Have

**Should Have**

**Summary**: What Gwen sees in her child isn't only the genetic inheritance from his parents.

**Author's Notes**: I couldn't remember what gender Gwen and Rhys' child was, so I assumed he was a _he_. Extremely short for my taste. ):

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_When I looked into your eyes  
Why does distance make us wise?  
You were the song all along  
And before the song dies_

_I should tell you, I should tell you  
I have always loved you_

—_Your Eyes _from Rent, the Musical

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As she holds her baby in her arms, she sees in him her husband—the sole purpose of her living; the love of her life. She sees the great love and affection he had only given to her in spite of what she has done behind his back. She sees the permanent bond between them that can never be broken come what may, be it natural disaster, family reunions and alien invasions (though she may not be responsible for that last bit no more.) She, in total, sees the ending and the beginning: the ending of all sorrows and hurt, and the beginning of their lives as family.

But as her child grew older, she had begun to see something else. Something she wasn't meant to see; wasn't supposed to see.

In her child, she sees Tosh. Whenever he sits quietly on the table; whenever he focuses on his work; whenever he comes home from school with a stamp on his hand saying "_I'm a star!_" because he had answered the teacher's question. And she smiles at him and tells him how beautiful he is because she should have done the same to _her_ when she still had the chance.

In her child, she sees Owen. Whenever he grimaces when she gives him a small peck on the cheek before letting him out the car; whenever he's too stubborn that it makes her so mad; whenever he's so desperate to have her attention because he had just drawn a family portrait both tad and mam were too busy to look at. And she kisses his cheek and tells him how great he is because she should have done the same to _him_ when she still had the chance.

In her child, she sees Ianto. Whenever he helps her by volunteering to do chores; whenever he knows exactly what to say to make her feel better; whenever he stays quiet instead of talking back at her when she scolds him because he respects her and loves her as his mam. And she hugs him and tells him how much she truly cares for him because she should have done the same to _him_ when she still had the chance.

In her child, she sees Jack. Whenever he scares her because of his being too headstrong at the worst possible cases; whenever she can't understand how he is; whenever he tries running away from her so she could chase him and he runs so fast that she can't keep up and she wants to give up but she can't because she's going to lose him and—

And she holds him close.

Just holds him. Because she doesn't know what to say. Nothing that she hadn't pleaded to _him _before _he _left. Before _he _ran. Before _he _was as good as gone like the _rest _of them.

As she holds her child to her arms, she sees in him Torchwood—the life she had led; the thing that changed her completely. She was Torchwood, and Torchwood was she.

In her child, she sees herself.


	3. Tied Up

**Tied Up**

**Summary**: It has always been Jack's dream to be tied up and gagged with a sexy Welshman holding a golf club barking orders at him.

**Author's Notes**: Course of action has been inspired from my favorite strip in _Johnny the Homicidal Maniac_ by Jhonen Vasquez.

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Jack didn't know whether to be turned on or pissed off at the fact that he had just suffered a hard blow on his head that had killed him in an instant, only to be revived tied up on a chair with a red necktie covering his mouth.

He didn't know how long he had been out and how long he had been waiting for his sadist, but if she or he would come in leather and fishnet, maybe he could let the rope burns he was now getting pass.

As he waited, he thought of all the people who could be held responsible for his current position. First, he thought of Gwen, for she was the earliest to leave in the team. Plus, he always felt her eyes glued on him; he wouldn't be surprised if he found out she had been fantasizing having dessert with him in the weevil cages. But he shook his head in disapproval. She wouldn't do that, now that she's decided to marry Rhys in just a few months.

He then thought of Tosh, because he had always believed that under that shy, recluse shell was a dirty minx waiting to come out only for a select few. By few, he meant one. It's a shame; they'll never know.

So he thought of Owen. He wouldn't think of this as sex foreplay anymore, however, but rather target practice and an anger management session. Always taking it out on the poor boss. Sad. But even he knew that Owen still had respect for him, after that hullabaloo during Abbadon's gallivanting.

And so he reached a conclusion (or, at least, he was confident it had been him from the very beginning) that it must be his charming gentleman. He was, as Jack had observed, reluctant to leave. Jack didn't want him to go, either, but he respected the Welshman's decision to perform his weekly flat clean-up he was so eager to do. Perhaps he had rushed it so he could "_dabble_" with the boss after office hours.

A few more minutes of waiting and Jack had started to become antsy. What if it wasn't who he was expecting it to be? What if Captain John Hart—that repulsive psycho—had been the mastermind? What if he had come to kill him and tied him up so he wouldn't stop him from killing off the rest of the team? What if the red necktie that was beginning to drip his saliva was the only remnant left of his lover and a sign that Jack belonged, and will belong, to no one else but John?

Just when he began imagining the horrible deaths John could be capable of inflicting on his team, the door swung open and quickly slammed shut. Jack fervently prayed with eyes closed for leather and fishnets and not his bloody, in both contexts, ex. When he slowly opened his eyes, he saw before him an irritated Ianto still donning his immaculate suit. _Oh god, forget leather and fishnet._ Jack's face brightened and he wagged his eyebrows at the man glaring at him.

When Ianto took off the tie covering Jack's mouth, Jack immediately said, "Getting kinky aren't we, Jones Ianto Jones?"

In an instant, Ianto brought out a golf club from behind his back and whacked the Captain's knee.

Jack yelped and stared up at Ianto in confusion. "What the hell was that for?"

Ianto snarled and grabbed Jack's collar, seething, "Listen, Harkness. You will do exactly as I say when I say it, and I don't want to hear any lip from you, understood?"

If Jack wasn't so turned on, he would be conniving cruel punishments against this form of assault.

"First—and you listen _closely—_I want you to tell me nothing but the truth. I can sense lies, Jack. I could almost pinch my nose from you emitting such stench of prevarications. If I catch even the whitest of lies, I swear to the Queen of England that I will innovate more uses for this golf club."

"Lots of things you can do with a golf club, eh?" Jack smirked, earning another whack on his arm. "God, stop that!"

"Shut up and serve your fucking purpose," Ianto growled in a deep voice. _Damn_, Jack winced, _Ianto cursing is _so_ sexy._

Amidst his fantasizing, Jack had suddenly and surprisingly found a plastic straw poking his lips. "Is this milk still good?" Ianto demanded.

Jack blinked at him and raised his eyebrows in confusion.

Ianto forced the straw in his mouth. "I said, is this milk still good?!"

"Uh," Jack sipped. "It isn't spoiled…?"

"Was that a question or an answer, Harkness?" Ianto threateningly held up the club.

"It isn't spoiled!"

When the carton of milk was taken away, Ianto then thrust a lettuce on Jack's face. "How crisp is this lettuce? Tell me how crisp it is!"

"Mmph, it's fine!" Jack groaned.

Then, a spoonful of strawberry ice cream was inserted in Jack's mouth.

"This Ice Cream! How does it taste? How does it taste, goddamnit?!"

Jack spat out the spoon. "Like Strawberry Ice Cream!"

Then, a sausage.

"Eat the fucking sausage!"

"It tastes good!" Jack yelled back when he ate it whole.

Just when Jack thought more were coming his way, Ianto dropped the golf club and started sipping on his carton of milk. "Mm, it does taste good."

Jack could only stare agape. "What was all this for?"

"Well, as I was cleaning, I thought perhaps I should clean the refrigerator first. And then I remembered how long it had been since I've cleaned it out, let alone eaten something from it. I was most in doubt with these products, and I didn't want to take any chances. Since you couldn't die, I thought you should test them for me." Ianto grinned.

Jack continued to stare at him, horrified. Then, his expression changed into a dark look. "You do realize that had I not been tied up and threatened by a sexy you, I would emphatically feed you to the weevils once I break free from these ropes?"

"I know you perfectly well, sir," Ianto replied before he cut the ropes that had been holding Jack back from doing something drastic. Once Jack was released, however, he immediately pounced on the Welshman because, hey, he had already let his fantasy come to life in such a way he hadn't expected. He could, at least, have the rest of his dream be fulfilled they way he wants it to.


End file.
